Walking Down Different Rhodes
by PyretofSweden
Summary: As I watched Rhodes Not Taken I thought to myself "What would happen if Puck found Kurt before he threw up all over Emma's shoes?" And we all know that Puck is really a very sweet person, who tries to do the right thing and take care of his friends.


Walking Down Different Rhodes

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee… If I did _Rhodes Not Taken_ would turn out very differently, as you will find out.

Summary: So I was watching _Rhodes Not Taken_ and I thought to myself "What would happen if Puck found Kurt before he threw up all over Ms. Pillsbury's shoes?" And we all know that Puck is really a very sweet person, who tries to do the right thing and take care of his friends.

Warnings: Ok… so underage drinking is heavily implied, but not described. There are some nude boys in here, but nothing too exciting. And also language… Noah Puckerman is featured in this story so what did you expect? Other than that (And the slight spoiler for _Rhodes Not Taken_) I don't think there is anything to warn about.

A/N: This little fic is dedicated to my dear friend Jade, who has helped me and pushed me and inspired me for so many years now. A few years back (when we were both hard core Harry Potter fans and only read fanfiction from that fandom) I promised her a gift-fic… that didn't happen… but now there is this and I hope she loves it =P For those of you who doesn't know about Patsy Stone.. she was probably the most fabulous female drunk on TV ever. It will all make no sense I promise…

Kurt had started taking the bus to school. He knew he was stupid enough to take April's advice about her liquid courage, but he was smart enough not to drive while doing it. So that's why he was earlier than usual that Monday morning. April's prescription of Gin-in-a-thermos gave Kurt the courage to cross the parking-lot without checking to see if the coast was clear of jocks first. Or maybe he just didn't care. Or maybe, more accurately, he forgot. As it happens he didn't even notice Karofsky and Azimio until they had him in a secure grip by the arms.

"Hey! Lemme down! Garbage doesn't match my shoes!" Kurt raved as he was carried to the dumpster. Karofsky and Azimio just laughed, changed their grip and tossed him in. Drunk as he was, Kurt could do nothing but lie there and feel sorry for himself until the world had stopped spinning enough for him to get up without falling right back down. When he felt confident that his body would do as it was told, he carefully climbed over the edge of the dumpster. He still fell on his ass, though. Luckily no one was around to see it, except some twittering freshmen with even lower social standing than him – so they didn't really count.

He was standing by his locker, trying to remember how to open it, when Puck strolled by – Puck always strolled or strutted, Kurt didn't think he'd ever seen him just walk like a normal person.

"Morning, Lance Bass." He said as he passed, but Kurt barely noticed, occupied as he was by trying to figure out his locker and keeping his balance at the same time.

"Ha!" Kurt exclaimed as he got his locker-door open, unfortunately his balance depended on the door being closed and he fell on his ass – again. This time, there were quite a few people in the hall to witness his disgrace.

"What's the matter with you, Hummel? You can dance up a fucking storm but opening a locker makes you fall on your ass?" Puck came and crouched down next to him, an uncharacteristically sweet gesture from the self proclaimed badass.

"Hell, you're drunk off your fucking face! I'm taking you home, Dude." Puck stated, slammed the offensive locker door shut and carried Kurt out to his truck.

"Hey! Lemme down! Garbage doesn't match my shoes and I've already had a dive today! Ask Knuckles and NoBrain if you don't believe me!" Kurt struggled feebly against Puck's firm hold on him, but it did no good. It did feel kind of nice though, not like he was going to be tossed in a dumpster at all. As they reached the parking-lot Kurt stopped struggling and let his head rest against Puck's shoulder.

"You're so strong, Puck." Kurt didn't know why he did it, maybe because Puck was being nice to him or because it felt natural, but before he could even think of stopping himself he had pressed a sloppy kiss to Puck's neck – the only place he could comfortably reach. Puck didn't say anything or react in any way that Kurt could see, so he did it again. And just because Puck tasted so good he did it a third and fourth time. Puck on the other hand didn't know what to feel about Kurt's kisses. They felt kind of nice in all their drunk sloppiness, but Kurt was a dude and Puck didn't usually go for that sort of thing. He said usually because it was only, like, one dude for every hundred chicks he found hot. And until now, Kurt hadn't even really registered on his radar – except for when he needed to toss someone in a dumpster too keep his badass reputation alive.

As Kurt lay there in Puck's arms he thought he could have kept on kissing Puck's neck all day, but soon he was carefully put in the passenger seat of Puck's truck – which smelled of old gym clothes and pine-scented air freshener. Kurt wrinkled his nose at the smell but thought that Puck was kind of sweet when he reached over him to buckle him in.

Kurt must have fallen asleep, because he couldn't even remember leaving the school's parking lot, and all of a sudden he was standing in his own driveway, propped up between Puck and the truck. And Puck was full on groping him!

"Hey! Whaddayadoin?" Kurt screeched – there really was no other word for the noise that came out of his mouth – and swatted at Puck's hands.

"I'm looking for your keys, Patsy! Where are they?" Puck grumbled, but didn't remove his hand from Kurt's back trouser-pocket. Who knew Hummel had such a fine ass?

"In m'bag," Kurt said and lifted the flap on his Alexander MacQueen messenger-bag.

"Hand them over" Puck growled and Kurt's stomach made a funny summersault, of the not bad kind. With shaking hands Kurt found the house key and gave it to Puck, who wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him, not un-gently, up the few steps to the front door. There was a slight struggle with getting the door open, seeing as Kurt threatened to topple over with every move either boy made. His uncontrollable giggling didn't make it any easier to remain upright either. And Puck felt his irritation grow at the same time as he was fighting his own laughter – it was all very confusing, and annoying. Somehow Puck eventually managed to get them both, unharmed, into the house. But there he was faced with another dilemma.

"Dude?" Puck tried to get his attention but Kurt was too busy giggling to answer.

"Hummel!" Puck demanded in a slightly more annoyed tone of voice but Kurt just kept on giggling, not even giving any sign of having heard Puck at all.

"Damn it, Kurt!" Puck barked in his ear, he obviously felt he'd been patient enough for one day.

"What, Noah? You know… you smell _really_ nice." Kurt said and leaned in to take a nice long whiff. Puck shivered as Kurt breathed on his neck, and hoped that the other boy was too drunk to notice.

"Awesome." Puck answered in a slightly annoyed tone. "Where is your room?" He asked and shook Kurt a little to regain his attention.

"I'm not allowed to have boys in my room, Noah! What kind of boy do you think I am?" Kurt asked – scandalized. Puck rolled his eyes but didn't say anything about that.

"Whatever… you need to get to bed and sleep this off! You do know that if a teacher had found you, you would have been suspended, right?" Puck scolded and watched in horror as Kurt's eyes filled with tears.

"Oh God! Oh God! What if my dad finds out? He'll kill me! And you saved me, Noah! You're like my knight in shining armor! My _hero_!" Kurt flung his arms around Pucks neck and sobbed into his shoulder. Puck, not knowing what to do with a crying Kurt, just patted him awkwardly on the back and murmured "there, there" like his mother used to do to him when he was little. Kurt hiccoughed a few times but seemed to have regained control over himself again. Puck heaved a sigh of relief and pushed the other boy away so he could look into his eyes.

"Where's your room, Hummel? I promise your virtue, or whatever, is safe." Kurt tucked his head back in the perfect cradle of where Puck's shoulder met his neck and said "Basement".

"Fantastic." Puck said without any emotion at all, and then continued "Do you think you can manage the stairs? Because I don't think I can carry you down them, we'd break our necks trying." He looked around, trying to figure out which door led to the basement, and what to do if it turned out that Kurt wouldn't be able to make it down the stairs by himself.

"I can do anything. I'm fabulous!" Kurt stated, not moving his head from Puck's neck, which made him shiver again when hot breath caressed his skin.

"On a normal day I'd agree with you, Fancy," Puck said with a small laugh, "but you're, like, totally pissed and I wouldn't trust you to even match a pair of socks right now." Puck could feel the change in Kurt as he stiffened in his arms. And if anyone asks – he was only holding Kurt so tight against his chest so he wouldn't fall down.

"Whatever, Puckerman." Kurt disentangled himself and weaved across the main living area towards a door in the opposite wall. Puck was close behind though, ready to steady him if he needed to.

To both of their amazement Kurt made it down the stairs without any major problems. Sure he almost fell twice, but Puck was there to catch him before he could do any real damage. When Kurt was on level ground again, he seemed to forget his bad mood and started giggling again. Puck just watched for a few seconds as Kurt stood there in the semi-darkness, swaying and giggling like a drunken school-girl. Puck figured the description wasn't that far off – except that he knew for a fact that Kurt was all male. He couldn't really help that his badass reputation demanded that he'd cop a feel as he was searching for Kurt's keys (he conveniently forgot what a nose dive his reputation would take if anyone found out he'd been groping a dude). Looking for them in pockets he could clearly see was empty. How Kurt managed to squeeze into pants that tight was a mystery to Puck. And Kurt's tight pants led his thoughts to what might lay underneath them. Puck was pretty sure it wasn't underwear, because, come on, they wouldn't even fit in there.

"Come on, Kurt." Puck took Kurt's hand and led him to the bed, where he turned down the sheets before sitting him down on the edge.

"I'm going to help you off with your shoes." Puck stated and started on the laces. When the shoes were off, Puck looked up at Kurt – who had taken off his shirt, and was looking down at him with a strange expression on his face.

"What?" Puck asked, self-conscious for some reason.

"You're kind of beautiful when I'm not scared of you." Kurt said in an awed tone of voice. Then he proceeded to put his hand over his mouth as he went paler than he'd ever been before. "I'm gonna throw up!" He managed to choke out before he was off the bed, heading for a door Puck hadn't noticed before. Kurt made it to the toilet just in time to avoid making a huge mess and Puck was rubbing his back soothingly. And when he was done Puck had a wet washcloth ready, as well as a glass of water.

"Thank you, Noah." Kurt accepted the glass of water while Puck wiped the sweat off his face and neck. Puck didn't know what to say so he just hummed softly and lead Kurt to the sink where he found a toothbrush and some toothpaste. He stayed behind Kurt to steady him while he brushed, feeling as if his hands on Kurt's hips were the only things keeping the drunkard on his feet. Kurt swayed a little as he bent forward to spit, rubbing up against Puck and making him groan in frustration – because what was happening in his pants should not be happening. Image after image of what he could do to Kurt in this position was flashing through his mind like a porno on fast-forward. Kurt didn't notice of course. He was too busy trying to fight off another bout of nausea. He rinsed his mouth out with the water left in the glass Puck had given him before. And the nauseous feeling just wouldn't go away. Kurt moaned a little as he straightened up and caught his reflection in the mirror over the sink. He looked absolutely horrible; pasty skin, bloodshot eyes and he didn't even want to _think_ about his hair! He leaned over the sink again to splash some cold water on his face, hoping that it would at least help with the sick feeling in his stomach.

"Oh God!" Kurt spun around faster than Puck could react and before either one of them knew what had really happened; Kurt had thrown up all over the front of both himself and Puck. Puck wrinkled his nose in disgust and was happy that he had a strong stomach; otherwise Kurt wouldn't be the only one throwing up and the cleaning would have been a bitch. Luckily none of Kurt's digestive pyrotechnics had ended up on the floor, all he would have to do was put their soiled clothes in the washer.

"Real nice, Emily Rose!" Puck said; his voice thick with sarcasm. "Take off your pants." He sighed and started removing his own hoodie – which had taken the brunt of the mess. Puck didn't really want to think about it too much; since this was not the way he had imagined getting naked with Kurt. Not that he had imagined such a thing. Ever. But if he had, this was not how it would go down. Puck looked around the spacious bathroom to try and locate a hamper or a clue to where the washing-machine might be, but he found neither.

"Hey, Hummel, where's your washer?"

"Garage" was his one word reply and Puck turned back to look at Kurt who was fumbling with his belt. Puck felt his mouth go dry and his throat tighten.

"You're wearing underwear, right?" Puck asked, feeling a blush creeping up his face for the first time in what must have been years. The feeling of panic was new too. Kurt just huffed a laugh and tugged his pants down his hips, revealing the tightest pair of man-thongs Puck had ever seen – or could imagine, if he were to be honest.

"Holy _shit_" He swore as Kurt struggled to get his jeans all the way down his legs without falling down.

"Help." Kurt sighed but Puck was frozen at the sight of the baby-blue underwear that might just not have been there at all. A moaned "_Noah_" brought him out of it though and he helped Kurt sit down on the closed lid of the toilet to get the very, _very_ tight pants off.

"Alright, Hummel, get in the shower. I'll go to the garage and wash the clothes, and when I come back I want you to not be dead by shower-slippage so… on second thought… maybe you should just wait for me." Puck studied Kurt for a little while, but when the drunk teen just sat there looking back at him with unseeing eyes, he turned with a grumble and went to find the garage.

To call it a garage was to stretch things a little too far in Puck's opinion. Sure, you could fit a car in there but that didn't mean that you _should_. There were actual rugs on the floor, the walls had some kind of wet-room wallpaper and it was homey and comfortable like a garage just wasn't. Not any garage Puck had ever been in anyway. In his mind a garage was a place where old toys went to retire or his bike spent the winter, a place filled with junk and so messy you would be hard pressed to find anything you were looking for. But this place; this place was beautiful.

The washer wasn't that hard to figure out. It was a modern machine so he just had to press a button, fill the compartment for detergent and fabric softener, press another button, flip a switch and the thing would take care of itself. As he bent over to put the clothes in, however he noticed that not only had his shirt gotten messed up, but his jeans had not been spared the Kurt Hummel experience either. He swore an oath that would make his Nana faint as he chucked off his pants and quickly put them in with the rest of the clothes. He felt grateful that he'd decided to wear boxers today after all, so he wouldn't have to prance around a strange house in his birthday suit, even if said house was empty.

When Puck got back to the bathroom, Kurt was once again hulking into the toilet bowl. The boy couldn't possibly have anything left in his stomach to throw up, so Puck figured it was mostly dry heaves. He went to the sink to get Kurt another glass of water, thinking that throwing up water would be better than having his stomach cramp up because there was nothing in it to expel. He carefully sat the glass down on the floor and then went to sit behind Kurt, rubbing his back in soothing circles. Kurt moaned, sounding totally exhausted, and Puck helped him sit back so he could lean against him while drinking the water in small sips. Kurt let his head rest against Puck's shoulder when the glass was empty. It was an awkward angle, but Kurt tried to look Puck in the eye anyway as he asked "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Puck shrugged as he answered "Damned if I know." The floor was cold and the moment was getting very heavy, so Puck opted for getting Kurt in the shower so he could finally go to bed and get some sleep. As soon as Kurt was steady on his feet Puck turned to the shower to turn the water on, a little colder than Kurt would have liked, but that was probably a good thing. While Puck's back was turned Kurt hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his skimpy underwear and pulled them down, as they reached his knees they fell to the ground without any assistance form Kurt. Which was good since bending over would have made Kurt fall on his face.

"Kurt!" Puck exclaimed as he turned around and saw those tiny blue underwear on the floor at the other boy's feet. His eyes jumped from Kurt's feet to his face, while trying very hard not to get caught in the middle. Kurt jumped a little at Puck's shout and almost lost his balance.

"What?" Kurt looked at Puck, his eyes wide and mouth falling open as he realized the situation they were in. "Why are you naked?" Kurt narrowed his eyes in accusation. Puck finally let his eyes wander where they wanted and said, smirk firmly in place, "Dude, you're the one with his junk out." Kurt started to giggle and Puck rolled his eyes. "Come on Princess, get in the frickin shower!" Puck took Kurt's arm and helped him climb over the edge of the tub. As Kurt stepped under the spray he seemed to start swaying more than he had before and Puck felt it was necessary to step in and help him, so he wouldn't fall and crack his skull or something else equally painful. Heaving a big sigh he abandoned his boxers on the floor and stepped in behind Kurt – hoping that the other boy wouldn't freak out.

The water felt good on Kurt's skin. But the room was spinning uncomfortably and he was kind of grateful when he felt a pair of steadying hands on his hips. He tilted his head to wet his hair and shoved the bottle of shampoo in Puck's direction and then he braced his hands on the wall. He could hear the cap of the bottle rattle to the floor and smell the sweet perfume of his coconut-shampoo as Puck put some in his hair. Kurt tilted his head back further to give Puck better access and he had to groan, it felt so good. Puck must have done this before; he knew exactly where to apply just the right amount of pressure to make Kurt's knees go weak. It was over all too soon though, and Kurt couldn't help the disappointed whimper that escaped his mouth as Puck turned him around to rinse his hair in the spray.

Puck was sure that Kurt's noises were going to be the death of him. But he probably spent more time washing his hair, to make him groan and moan just one more time, than he should have. How pathetic was he? Perving on some drunk kid who didn't even know what was going on. He promised himself he wouldn't do stupid stuff like this after what happened with Quinn. Of course he knew Kurt couldn't get pregnant or anything, but it still wasn't cool. Puck took a step back from Kurt as his hair was free of suds and he didn't need to help him with the soap. Kurt seemed steady enough to manage that task on his own; Puck didn't know if his sanity could take him running his hands all over Kurt's firm body.

Kurt didn't go for the soap though; instead he grabbed a bottle of expensive looking conditioner from the shelf next to the faucet and again shoved the bottle at Puck – who had no choice but run his hands through Kurt's soft hair, making sure the conditioner was doing its job. When he was done Kurt lathered up a loofa and washed himself all over in tiny circular motions, up and down his arms, chest and legs. Kurt gave the loofa to Puck and for a moment he was frozen, not knowing what he should do. But Kurt flexed his shoulders a little bit and Puck washed his back for him, thankful for the barrier the loofa offered between his hand and Kurt's skin. When he was done washing Kurt's back he gave the spongy thing back to the other boy who rinsed it and then put it away.

"Ready to get out?" Puck asked and Kurt groaned in response "No… just a minute more". Kurt tilted his head back and rinsed his hair out again. Puck had completely forgotten about the stuff he put in it earlier. Kurt turned off the water and started to climb out of the tub, with only a little help from Puck. He seemed steadier on his feet but Puck didn't quite trust him not to fall on his ass. Puck climbed out after him and found a towel on the rack next to the tub; he dried them both off, not bothering to look for another towel for himself, since he hadn't gotten all that wet anyway. He quickly put his boxers back on and followed a very naked Kurt out of the bathroom. Kurt went right for the bed, not bothering with putting on underwear. Puck heaved a relieved sigh though, when Kurt dug a pair of pajama pants from under his pillow and pulled them on before getting under the covers.

"Are you alright now, dude?" Puck asked when Kurt was safely tucked into bed.

"Hmm, yeah" Kurt sighed and burrowed deeper into his pillow.

"Great, I'll just go check on the laundry." Puck started up the stairs but was stopped as Kurt said "Don't leave," in a small voice.

"Ok, do you have, like, a shirt I could borrow? Strutting around naked in another dude's bedroom is a little too intense, even for the Puckerone." Puck said as he walked back towards the bed.

"Closet, football jersey." Kurt said and waved a hand in the general direction of his closet, which, Puck discovered, was absolutely _huge_. When Puck had found the jersey and put it on he left the closet and went to sit on Kurt's couch – seriously, who had a couch in their bedroom? – but was stopped in his tracks by what came out of Kurt next "No, stay here, where I can feel you." He patted the bed next to him. Puck sighed and prayed for strength, but he got on the bed, never the less.

It wasn't long before Kurt was snoring softly next to him. He looked so incredibly young, Puck thought, without the mask of constant irritation he usually wore while awake. After quite some time of dragging his hand through Kurt's amazingly soft hair, Puck shifted a little where he sat, his back aching against the headboard where it was digging into him.

"Where are you going?" Kurt murmured and took hold of his wrist.

"Chill, Kurt. I thought you were sleeping."

"M'not sleepin. Don't go."

"Not going anywhere. Can I watch TV while you're not sleeping?" Puck asked. If anyone had seen them, Puck would have pleaded temporary insanity or Alien Hand Syndrome, because he really didn't mean to pet Kurt's hair.

"Mmm yeah, that's nice." Kurt sighed and shifted so his head was in Puck's lap. Puck looked around for the remote, trying to ignore that another boy was falling asleep in his lap. Eventually he found it, tucked in the nightstand drawer next to the bed. He turned on the TV and, after surfing a while, found the sports channel, to his surprise and great delight. Last night's game was on rerun, he'd only missed a few minutes, and since his mother had made him miss the game entirely, Puck decided to watch it while Kurt slept. In his lap. Which wasn't distracting at all. Not. At. All. Around half-time Puck's back started aching again, even though he'd stuffed a pillow behind him. He didn't move though, he didn't want to wake up Kurt. 20 minutes later his back was screaming and he didn't care if Kurt woke up, so he carefully slid out from under the sleeping boy. He was almost free when Kurt shot up as if he'd been electrocuted.

"Jeesh, Hummel, give a guy a heart-attack!" Puck huffed as he almost fell off the bed in fright.

"Where are you going?"

"Chill, dude, I'm not going anywhere. My back was hurting like a bitch." Puck settled back in the bed, lying down next to Kurt.

"Don't call me dude."

"Feeling better, I see."

"Mmm. Room's still spinning." Kurt mumbled and snuggled up against Puck's side. No matter what anyone who saw them might say, Puck did not put his arm around Kurt to pull him closer.

"Why'd you do it?" Puck didn't know why he asked, or why he even cared. But all of a sudden that felt like the most important question in the world.

"Did what?" Kurt, half asleep, sighed the words rather than spoke them, and Puck felt every puff of air and every move of the lips against the sensitive skin of his neck.

"Get drunk. It's not something I thought you'd do."

"I didn't want to be scared. She said the drink would make it better." Kurt plucked at a loose thread in the jersey, apparently finding it very fascinating.

"Rhodes put you up to this? She's a fucking drunk, Kurt! Of course she would tell you drinking is the way to make everything better! But you don't need it! Don't you know how awesome you are?"

"Not really" Kurt blushed and hid his face in Puck's shirt.

"Well you are so knock it off!" They lapsed into silence and watched the game for a while.

"That is an awful color." Kurt said after a few minutes.

"They're not exactly trying to make a fashion statement. It's just a uniform."

"It's still terrible." They fell silent again as the team in the awful colored uniforms scored a touchdown.

"Who's playing anyway?" Kurt asked after another few minutes.

"I have no idea." Puck answered and felt that blush creep up his face again. He hadn't blushed in years and now he'd done it twice in four hours – something was not right here.

"You have no idea?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I forgot." Puck wouldn't look at him, the blush was getting worse.

"You forgot?"

"Is there an echo in here? Yes, I forgot!" Puck pulled his eyebrows down in a fierce scowl but apparently Kurt didn't care about that.

"Why?" Kurt's finger had stopped pulling on the loose thread and was now just resting in the middle if Puck's chest. He groaned as he realized that the only way to shut Kurt up was to tell it as it was.

"Because you're very distracting."

"How am I distracting you? I'm not doing anything. I've been asleep for the bigger part of the game!" Kurt started to pull away from him but Puck tightened his hold around his shoulders.

"Let me put it like this; if I was in this exact situation with Santana I would know who was playing, what the score was and who had made the longest pass, and the most badass tackle. I would know all that even if she was _trying_ to distract me. Do you know what I mean?" Puck was staring at him, willing him to understand so that he didn't have to explain it again – because let's face it. He didn't have a clue himself.

"Not exactly." Kurt was looking at Puck as if he were an alien – with a mullet. Puck was silent and then he came up with the perfect way to demonstrate exactly how distracting Kurt was, and what no chick – not working very hard to achieve it – had ever managed to do just laying beside him.

"This is how distracting you are." Puck said and took Kurt's hand and put it on his groin, his aching cock getting even harder at the sight. Kurt just stared at his hand and the bulge in Puck's boxers for a long time before giving it a squeeze and said "I did that?"

"You did that."

"Wow"

"Yeah" And they kissed.

Years later Puck would say that Kurt was the one who kissed him first, and Kurt would say that it was Puck who took the first step to smoochville. But it didn't really matter. They kissed, and that's what's important.

END.


End file.
